


Late Night Chats

by Persiflage



Series: Skoulson RomFest 2k16 [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Crying During Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Post-S2:22, Prompt Fic, Skoulson Romfest 2k16, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Spooning, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5764303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post S2: Skye and Coulson get closer and closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Chats

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k16 for the prompts 'Skye', 'Lola', and 'Late night chats'.
> 
> Boy was it hard work remembering to go back to calling Daisy 'Skye' again!

Even before Coulson's allowed out of bed after losing his arm, Skye finds herself wondering how she's ever going to face him again – it's her fault he lost his arm, well, hers and Jiaying's. If she'd only been smarter, or faster, or _something_ – she should have found a way to stop Jiaying's plan so that Coulson wouldn't have needed to get dragged into the whole mess with her mother and the Inhumans.

So she finds herself avoiding him as much as possible – she certainly doesn't go out of her way to spend time alone with him. Luckily, she doesn’t think he's noticed, after all, he's pretty busy dealing with the aftermath of the whole 'Real SHIELD' deal that Robert Gonzales brought down on their heads. Skye, meanwhile, is busy trying to make up for the absence of May (who seems to be taking an extended vacation), Jemma (no one knows where she might be, assuming she's still alive), and Fitz (who's trying to find a clue to Jemma's whereabouts and is periodically absent as a consequence). Of course, Bobbi's still not fit for field work, nor likely to be for some time – and there's another cause of guilt for Skye because if she'd taken Ward down properly back in San Juan, Bobbi wouldn't have been tortured, and Agent 33 – Kara Palamas – would still be alive, and maybe even working with SHIELD.

Kara's death is on her, just like Trip's, and Eric Koenig's too, and sometimes the weight of those deaths makes her want to run. Sometimes she actually sits down and considers it seriously – she could easily wipe the few records of her that currently exist, and just disappear again – she hasn't forgotten how to be invisible.

It's late one night and she's curled up in the corner of the couch in the semi-darkness of the lounge, an empty mug clutched in her hands as she once again contemplates running, when she senses Coulson approaching. She's been learning to distinguish between the individual vibrations of the people around her, and Coulson's are by far the easiest for her to recognise. Unfortunately he's too close for her to leave without him spotting her, so she remains where she is, hoping he won't notice her in the ill-lit lounge.

"There you are," he says as he comes in and heads straight for the couch, and Skye stifles her annoyance that she hasn't remained unnoticed.

"Coulson."

"I've been looking for you everywhere," he observes mildly.

"I was here."

"So I see." He sits down beside her, and she tries not to notice his awkward, unbalanced movements. "I was wondering if you'd like to visit Cal – Dr Winslow, I mean – soon?"

She uncurls herself and sits upright, wincing a little at the stretch of her limbs after so long in one position. 

"I – uh – yeah, I would like that," she says. It's been a few days since Cal left after going through the TAHITI protocol, and it would be good to see that he's okay and settling down as Dr Winslow, Vetinarian. "I'll have to check the Greyhound routes and – "

"Actually, I thought you might like to drive – take Lola, I mean," he says, and she can only gape at him, utterly taken aback.

"Take Lola?" she whispers once she finally recovers enough of her wits for speech.

Coulson smiles. "Mack's finished fixing her up," he explains, "and she could use a test drive, and since I can't – " He lifts his left arm in its sling slightly off his chest.

"I – Wow, Phil, that's amazing!" she says, then winces when she realises she's called him by his first name.

He's smirking at her, though, so maybe it's okay that she called him 'Phil' this time.

"Even if you were to fly, it'd be a long trip," he points out, "so be prepared for an overnight stay somewhere."

She nods, then asks, "Are you going to come too?"

"Do you want me to?" he asks, and when she doesn't immediately answer, he adds gently, "I've had the impression that you've been avoiding me lately."

"Yeah, I – I'm sorry Coulson. It's just – well, I feel so guilty when I look at you."

He shifts slightly and she can feel the warmth of his body beside hers, even though they're not actually touching. "Skye – " He sighs. "This wasn't your fault," he says softly.

"I should've stopped Jiaying," she says immediately.

"How?" he asks, "because as clever and amazing as you are, even you can't do everything. Your mother's plan was a response to the threat Gonzales and his SHIELD represented, but I suspect that even if I'd gone to see her instead, it would still have ended badly."

"I – " She stops, then shakes her head. "I should've been able to do something," she says, frustrated all over again.

"Oh Skye." He carefully wraps his right arm around her shoulders and she bites back tears.

"Have you even grieved yet?" he asks gently, and she gives him a startled look.

"How did you know?" she asks. She hasn't grieved – it's felt selfish to sit around mourning the loss of a mother she'd barely even known when there's so much work to be done and so few people to do it, not to mention Coulson lost his _hand_.

"Skye," he says softly, and slides his hand into her hair at the back of her head, and she rests her face against his shoulder; before she realises what's happening, she's weeping, and Coulson murmurs soothingly into the top of her head.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

After that Skye finds herself regularly talking to Coulson in the lounge, late night chats that help to clear the air so that gradually she finds herself blaming herself a bit less for what's happened, and Coulson begins his own mourning for the loss of his hand.

By the time they set out on the trip to see Dr Winslow a few days later things are a lot easier between them, and she finds she doesn't mind the idea of spending two days on the road in Lola with Coulson.

When Skye climbs into Lola, though, it feels weird and she has to take a moment to settle herself as she clasps the steering wheel.

"This feels wrong," she tells Coulson as he settles into the passenger seat beside her.

He chuckles softly, reaches across his body awkwardly, and squeezes her hand. "You'll be fine," he tells her. "I have every faith in you and Lola."

She nods, takes a deep breath, then releases it before starting the car. By the time they hit the interstate, Skye's aware that she's grinning widely as Lola purrs beneath her like a big, friendly cat. She turns to grin at Coulson, and the expression on his face almost causes her to crash: she can't remember the last time he looked so open and happy and relaxed. It's the latter that catches her unaware because she'd forgotten what a relaxed Coulson looked like, it's been so long – probably not since before the HYDRA reveal has he looked this relaxed. She has to force herself not to stare, to turn her attention back to the road before she does cause a crash.

They take the journey in easy stages, pausing once for an early lunch, because Skye's days still start very early – even though May's not there to train with, she still gets up early to work out by herself before she begins her day's work. They pause mid-afternoon for a bathroom break and to get coffees and, at Coulson's insistence, a pack of powdered doughnuts. As they resume their journey after drinking their coffees and eating a doughnut apiece, he tells her, rather diffidently she thinks, about the time he stopped for doughnuts at a gas station and ended up averting an armed robbery. Skye's delighted by the story, and wishes she'd been there to see him in action; she wonders if there's any camera footage of it anywhere, and promises herself to take a look for some once they're back at the Playground. 

They arrive in town in time to book into a motel and have dinner, but it's only when they climb out of Lola in the parking lot that something occurs to Skye.

"Hey, uh, I just thought – would it be easier if we share a room? I mean, I assume you need help with stuff – uh, getting dressed or whatever?" She bites her lip and hopes she's not going to start blushing – she's trying to be practical and helpful here.

He clears his throat, looking awkward, then nods. "Do you – would you mind?"

"Of course not, Phil," she says immediately. She hasn't called him Phil again since the other night when she wept on his shoulder, but she notices that he doesn't object to the familiarity.

"Thank you."

She nods, the pops Lola's trunk and lifts out their bags. Coulson leads the way over to reception and gets them booked in. The room they're given is surprisingly big and very clean, and when Skye bounces experimentally on one of the beds it seems comfortable. Coulson rolls his eyes a bit at the bed bouncing, but she's not fooled – she can see the way a smile is threatening to curl the corners of his mouth.

She helps him to hang up his clothes when he decides he wants to change out of his suit and into jeans and a button down for dinner.

"Maybe you should consider giving the suits a rest for a bit?" she suggests gently as she buttons up the soft, pale blue shirt he's chosen to team with his jeans. "Just until you get a prosthetic, if that's what you're going to do?" She knows, because he'd discussed it with her in one of their late night chats during the last few days, that he's conflicted about getting a prosthetic hand – he's worried about the expense, not just of building it, but also maintaining it. "No one will think any less of you as Director if you stop wearing suits, you know."

"Mmm," he says noncommittally as Skye holds the waistband of his jeans so he can zip them up, then she buttons them and fastens his belt.

She's done her best to keep her expression neutral and her mind a blank as she helps him change his clothes, because seeing him in his boxers and undershirt leaves her dry-mouthed and embarrassingly aroused. She does her best to avert her eyes as much as possible in an effort not to stare, but it's not easy. 

Once they're both ready, they head out to find somewhere to eat, and Skye finds herself wondering what sort of picture they make to others: do strangers look at them and assume Coulson's her father? She hopes not, and not just because Cal is her father. She never looked at Coulson like that – when they met she wasn't interested in finding a surrogate family, she just wanted to find out what had happened to her birth family, when they'd abandoned her as a baby. To Skye, Coulson has been a mentor and a friend, and notionally a boss, though they've always treated each other more as partners and equals than boss and subordinate.

She's wanted more than that from him – particularly in those moments when he's been especially tender and caring with her. And she cannot forget, will never forget, the way he'd asked her if she wanted to run when she was stuck in that quarantine cell – there have been moments when running away with Coulson has seemed like the best idea either of them have had.

She knows they wouldn't, of course – neither of them could run, not really, because they're both far too committed to SHIELD, and have lost too much in its service to easily turn their backs on it. Nevertheless, it's tempting to consider. She's wondered, probably too often, what it would be like for them to be just Phil and Skye, without the weight of protecting the entire world on their shoulders.

Dinner is pleasant – they talk about favourite foods, and Skye praises his grilled cheese again, because, she tells him, whatever his secret recipe is, it's very good. (He doesn't take the hint and tell her the secret recipe, though.) After dinner they go for a stroll around the town so she can get a feel for the place that her father's now calling home. She walks on his right side and they brush shoulders and arms occasionally until, eventually, he slings his arm around her shoulders.

"Okay?" he asks quietly, and she moves in closer, pressing herself against his side.

"Yeah, Phil. That's really nice." She slides her arm around his torso, barely resisting the temptation to slip her hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

They're about half way back to the motel when he suggests a nightcap, and while Skye's surprised by the suggestion, and by his more open demeanour tonight, she can't say she objects, so she agrees easily and they walk a little further down the street, then head into the first bar they see. When they get inside it's very noisy, though not as crowded as the level of noise implies.

"What are you drinking?" she asks, and he tells her, then hands her his wallet, and Skye slips it into her own pocket before making her way to the bar.

The barmaid's already pouring Coulson's drink when a guy, who's clearly the worse for drink, crowds into her personal space and asks, in a drawl, "Hey darling, wanna ditch the crip and let me show you a good time?"

"I'm not interested," she tells him flatly through gritted teeth.

"C'mon babe, the old man don't have nothing I ain't got." He grabs her ass, and she reacts without thinking, snatching at his arm and twisting it behind his back so tightly she's in danger of dislocating his shoulder. 

"He's got better manners than you for a start, asshole," she snarls in his ear. "Now, are you gonna take 'no' for an answer, or what?"

He tries to grab her with his free hand, so she puts exactly the right amount of pressure onto the arm she's still holding, and his shoulder pops out. The guy cries out and Skye's aware that she's attracting a lot more attention than she'd like, so she shoves him away from her. He stumbles backwards, cradling his arm against his chest, then snarls, "Get her" to two nearby men, who obediently rush her.

She doesn't hesitate for a second, she just lifts her right hand and vibrates the air in front of the men, flinging them both backwards onto their asses. Before the situation can devolve any further two strapping young men appear, one in a chef's apron, the other looking as if he might usually work behind the bar, and between them they manhandle Skye's three attackers across the room and out of the door.

She turns back to the barmaid, a young woman whom she judges to be only a few years older than herself, and apologises. 

"Don't be sorry," the barmaid says immediately. "They got exactly what they deserved, obnoxious pricks." She passes the two drinks Skye ordered across the bar, then adds, "On the house."

"Thanks," Skye answers, aware she's about to start blushing. She picks up the glasses, then looks around until she spots Coulson waiting by the window. This time she does blush, because he's giving her a look that combines awe and admiration. She ducks her head and concentrates on carrying their drinks over without spilling anything.

"Skye, that was amazing," he tells her as she sets the drinks down on the table.

"Thanks," she mutters, hoping she doesn't sound too ungracious – she's not quite sure what to do with his obvious approval.

"I was going to come over, but I saw you had it covered."

"Yeah." She hands his wallet back. "The drinks were on the house. Apparently I impressed the barmaid."

Coulson opens his mouth to answer, but is forestalled by the arrival of two young women who appear by her side and proceed to thank her profusely for dealing with 'that sleazy asshole' as they call the guy who harassed her. In the ten minutes that follow, she's thanked by more than half a dozen young and not-so-young women, and by the time she's finished her drink, she feels thoroughly embarrassed.

"Can we get out of here?" she begs Coulson, who hasn't stopped smirking.

"Yeah." He offers her his hand and she takes it gratefully, then they thread their way through the crowd, although it takes some time as a handful more women stop Skye to thank her for dealing with the 'sleazy asshole'.

Once they're out in the street, she stops and leans against the wall, breathing deeply and slowly. Coulson watches her and she can see that his amusement is turning into concern.

"Are you okay?"

She nods. "Yeah. It's just – that was a lot to deal with." He frowns, clearly confused, so she elaborates. "I can feel people's vibrations – well the vibrations of everything really, even this building behind me – and because I'm still new at this, it's a bit overwhelming."

He steps back a couple of paces, looking worried, but she reaches out for him. "It's okay, Phil. You're not overwhelming – quite the opposite, in fact. Your presence here actually helps because your vibrations are familiar enough by now that you're much easier to be around than a bunch of strangers."

She sees his eyes widen at this, but he steps back into her space, and when she reaches for him again, he moves in to slip his right arm around her body, and she wraps her arms around him.

"That's much better," she murmurs against his neck. She feels him shiver and she's about to pull away, to ask him if he's okay, when she feels the unmistakeable press of his lips to her skin.

"Phil," she whispers, and he presses light kisses all the way up her neck, then across her face until his mouth is hovering over hers.

"Oh god, Phil," she groans, then presses her hand to the back of his head, and a moment later his mouth is on hers.

They kiss for what seems like a very long time, and Skye feels her body melting under his as his mouth moves over hers.

"Phil?" Her voice is shaky, she notices.

"Yeah?" He sounds breathless.

"Can we go back to the motel _right now_?"

"I – yeah – I think that's a very good idea." He takes her hand in his and pulls her away from the wall.

They hurry through the streets, and Skye can feel how hot and wet she's growing, and she wants nothing more, right now, than Coulson's body on hers. 

Once they're in their motel rooms she strips Coulson's clothes off as fast as she can, then she commands him to sit on the bed while she gets undressed. She watches him intently as he watches her strip – his cock's a lot bigger than she'd expected, and she can't help licking her lips as she contemplates having it inside her.

"Skye." He groans her name and she thinks that maybe another time she'll do a proper strip tease for him, with music and everything.

Once she's naked she climbs onto the bed beside him, and he reaches for her one-handed. She straddles his lap, and he instantly slips his hand between their bodies to touch her,

"Fuck, Skye, you're really wet."

She shudders as his fingers probe her. "That's because I really want you, Phil." She grabs the box of condoms that she picked up on the way, and moments later she's rolling one down his dick. Then she lifts herself up and slowly, carefully sinks down onto his cock. He groans loudly, clutching at her hip with his right hand. His left arm dangles at his side, and she reaches out to touch his shoulder.

"I don't mind if you touch me with this arm too," she tells him quietly.

He blinks, surprise in his eyes, then asks, "How?"

"Can I?" she asks, and when he nods, she lifts his arm and drapes it over her shoulder. Then she turns her head and presses a kiss to his skin, and his eyes go wide in shock.

"Comfortable?" she asks, and he nods adamantly, so she begins to move, slowly at first as her body gets used to his cock filling her, then a bit faster as she takes him deeper inside her slick heat. She doesn't go too fast though – she wants to savour this, wants to make the moment last because she wasn't lying when she told Coulson she really wanted him, but what she hasn't yet told him is that she's wanted him for a very long time – basically ever since they met. She plans on telling him that later, though.

She leans in to kiss him, and he moans into her mouth, which is ridiculously sexy, she thinks, and it makes her wetter than before.

"Phil," she sighs, then wraps her arms more tightly around him.

"Skye." It's more of a whimper, she notices, and she can't help smirking just a bit. "Please," he begs, and wow, she didn't know that having Coulson beg her would be such a huge turn on.

"Very well," she says grandly, "since you begged so beautifully."

He flushes, and she grins at him, unable to resist a feeling of triumph at the sight of the obviously very aroused Director of SHIELD blushing.

She picks up the speed of her movements over him, and he groans when she comes hard, her muscles tightening around his cock. Her whole body is throbbing with pleasure, and it takes her a few moments to resume riding him.

She comes a second time before he tightens his grip on her hip and bucks up beneath her as he comes. She's a bit worried, though, when she notices he's crying after he comes.

"Phil?"

"Sorry," he gasps, and turns his head away, as if he's ashamed.

"Hey," she says softly, and cups his cheek, turning his face back towards hers. "It's okay, Phil. You don't have to be ashamed or embarrassed if you're feeling a bit emotional about this." She strokes her thumb along his cheekbone. "I'm guessing this is the most sustained physical contact that's not for medical reasons that you've had since you lost your hand."

He looks startled for a moment, then nods. "Yeah. I – uh – I think people are too scared to touch me or something, not that they ever did a great deal before."

"She nods. "They might be worried about hurting you," she suggests.

"Yeah." He sighs, then asks, "Why aren't you?"

"I am worried about hurting you," she tells him, "but I also know how much it means to be touched, to be treated as if you're still you, even though you've gone through a big physical change."

"Oh Skye." He lifts his right arm and wraps it around her neck, then presses his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry," he says.

"Don't be," she says immediately. "You did the best you could when there was a lot going on."

"You're too forgiving," he murmurs, then kisses her, and she kisses him back, tenderly at first, then with more passion. She bites down on his bottom lip, making him whine, then draws her tongue over the spot.

"We should take care of that condom," she reminds him, and he nods, looking a bit dazed, and she can't fight a smirk off her face at the sight of him. 

She lifts herself off him, disposes of the condom, then encourages him to lie on his side in the bed – luckily it's a queen, so there's room for them to share. She wraps her body around his, carefully cradling his left arm with hers.

"This is nice," he tells her, his voice low and sleepy.

"Yeah, Phil, it is." She presses soft kisses to the nape of his neck, then says, "You should get some sleep, 'cos I plan on having my wicked way with you again in the morning before we leave."

He chuckles, and she realises that his vibrations are happier than they were earlier, and that thought makes her happy too.

As she sinks towards sleep, she realises that she feels less anxious about seeing her father tomorrow, and she's grateful for the way events have unfolded this evening. It might just be her best day ever.


End file.
